An Aide by Any Other Name
by Irish Thorn
Summary: Igor Karkaroff: feared, insane, disturbed... And did I mention slightly loopy? Because he's that too... And he will never learn his aide's name! Silly little one-shot set before the fourth book.


_This is a one-shot written for ravenclawlove because college exams have been kicking her butt and she needed a bit of cheer! Here's to you, girl! Thanks for being so awesome!_

_Also, I still don't own Harry Potter or any of its' affiliates... Unfortunately._

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The scraggly looking man was hunched over his desk in the poorly lit room, pouring over all manner of documents. He was looking into the possibilities of the dark lord's return, as he was a 'faithful' servant. That 'faithful' part roughly translates to 'only when he knows he's on the winning side'. The man in question was none other then Igor Karkaroff. His aide slid into the room from a darkened doorway off to the side.

"What do you want, Higgins?" The aide refrained from rolling his eyes. The man never got his name right.

"A message for you, sir." He offered his boss the letter.

"What are you still standing here for, Bentley? Get out!" The man could be quite scary when he wanted to be. The aide left swiftly, the use of the once again wrong name not lost on him. It wasn't long before he heard his master call out to him, and he was once again rushing to please the un-pleaseable man.

"You called, sir?" The aide stepped just in the doorway, ready to run out at the least provocation.

"Yes I did, Yves. Now bring me some sealing wax, I'm all out!" The booming voice followed the younger man out of the room, and down the hall. Even in his annoyance, it took him no time at all to locate the wax, but he was sure that his master wouldn't be happy with the wait, no matter how short it may be.

"Here, master!" The aide answered as he was running into the room, slightly short of breath.

"It's about time, Jackson! I've been waiting forever!" Karkaroff bent back over the desk, this time melting a bit of wax to press his signet ring into. The message was from Rabastan Lestrange, another Death Eater. The two had served together during the first war, before Karkaroff was sentenced to a stint in Azkaban. Once he had gotten out, he'd left as quick as he could, ending up in Bulgaria, where he was now the Headmaster of Durmstrang, the local magic school, exclusively for boys.

"Terribly sorry, sir." The aide hid his annoyance with the man he called master. He didn't want to serve the ungrateful prat, but he didn't have much of a choice at the time.

"Run along, Andrei! And take this letter with you! It needs to go out posthaste!" You can't take the proper British breeding out of the man, he was constantly saying things like 'posthaste' and 'indeed' in everyday conversation.

"As you wish, master!" The aide turned on his heel, and found an owl as quickly as possible, to deliver the letter. Sooner then he would have liked, the aide found himself once again summoned to the side of the man he hated more then life.

"There you are, Hristofor! It's about time you got up here! I'm in need of a snack!" The aide sighed, but quickly complied with his boss' orders. With a wave of his wand, the food that was being prepared in the kitchens, was whisked up to sit on the desk that Karkaroff was using. Thankfully, it was only some vegetable rolls that the chef had prepared for just the occasion, or the hasty spell may have caused more then just the one plate to come hurling into the room.

"If that will be all, sir?" The aide was already backing out of the room.

"Yes, yes! Thank-you, Martin! I'm sure you just live for praise like that. It'll make you work better!" The man was really just a big arse.

"Of course, sir." The aide left the room, putting up a spell that would alert him should he be needed. The man in question still didn't know his name, and it was starting to get on his nerves. It was a good few hours before he was called for, and the length of time certainly had him on edge as he answered the summons. "Yes, sir?"

"Has a letter come for me yet, Sergei?" The aide answered in the negative, so Karkaroff decided to explain himself for once. "You see, Yakov, there is to be a Triwizard Tournament held this coming year at Hogwarts, and we are going with the best boys we can find! I'm awaiting correspondence from an old friend so that we can make arrangements for the most spectacular entrance anyone has ever seen!" The aide didn't know how to react, the man in front of him was obviously excited, but he never spoke to him outside of orders, so what was he supposed to say?

"Sounds riveting, sir." It was best not to show emotion just yet.

"Oh, it will be, Boris! It will be." Karkaroff began writing another letter of some kind, the aide had no idea what about this time.

"Well, sir, I'll just go check on your response, if I may?" He would never go against his master directly, he couldn't stand the punishments.

"Very good, Damian!" The crazy man didn't even look up from his desk, so engrossed in what he was writing. The aide left his master's side, hoping that the owl had returned swiftly. When he got up to the eaves where the owls lived, he saw one of them with a letter. Taking it from the owl, he all but ran back to his boss' side.

"It's come, sir!" The aide was waving the letter around in his hand, just as Karkaroff was dripping a bit of wax on the now finished letter on his desk.

"Well, give it here, Philip!" Karkaroff ripped the note from his lackey's hand, and popped the seal to open it. He read for a minute, a maniacal smile spreading across his face. "Listen here, Ludwig: 'arrive with a bang, via a ship. We will be in your area soon to help you charm a ship to come right up in the middle of the Black Lake at Hogwarts exactly eight months from now'. Did you hear that, Natanail? A ship!" Karkaroff then proceeded to babble about this and that for a few minutes, until he realized he still had the letter on his desk to send out. "Oh! Peter, send this off to Viktor Krum."

The aide did exactly that, trying his hardest not to react to the incorrect name; he returned to his master's side within minutes. When Karkaroff saw who was standing in the doorway once again, he called the man over. He never bothered to learn the man's name, but figured it wouldn't look very good in front of the great Albus Dumbledore if he couldn't even remember the name of the man who served him to faithfully. The old codger was always on about rights for all stations in life. He would not give the old geezer a reason to look down on him.

"Um, Jacob, is it?" Karkaroff tentatively asked. The man was never tentative.

"That's not my name, sir." The aide had said this so many times over the past few months, it was second nature to say it now.

"Well, Igor, then."

"That's _your_ name, sir." The aide couldn't resist the eye roll that time.

"Right, right." Karkaroff seemed to be deep in thought for a moment before snapping his attention up to the man standing next to his desk. "Who the hell are you then?" He was truly baffled.

The aide sighed before turning to face his master. "My name is—"

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_A/N: If you are a follower of 'The Fling', I will be updating some time tomorrow. At this point, I'm just spacing out the updates so that I have more time to work on other stories without feeling rushed. You all know the drill..._

_Please Review!_


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